Over the years I've met a lot of new agencies and consultancies, and got to chatting about their positioning and strategy -- the words they use to talk about what they do, how they dress it up, and who they're selling their services to.
Sometimes the new business is operating in a new market which typically isn't the smart thing to do. It's an uphill struggle to sell something where there isn't an common job title for the buyer, or an established network for word of mouth (word of mouth is unreasonably effective) or an easy way to see how the services fit into business as usual. But when you can make it work, my goodness, things start flying. So it can be worth it.
Think... design, about 10 years ago. Even only a decade ago, it wasn't clear that Apple's design-first approach would prove so successful. Software development methods like agile were still relatively new and not that widespread: it was unclear that design methods like looking at actual behaviour, prototyping, testing, and learning could actually work, as opposed to diligent specification. The idea that design is a way to invent, understand, and to develop strategy... well, that's still a tough sell, but at least people no longer think it's just websites and album covers.
Or let's take a newer example: circular economy products and services, whether they are about reducing waste, or actually shifting business models to have a circular supply chain, or changing the internal culture so businesses look for new ways, big and small, to go zero waste. Right now I know a bunch of startups operating in that space, but what's the entry into corporate customers? It could be CSR (Corporate Social Responsibility), or marketing, or you find a progressive team in product, or there's an innovation group. It's muddled.
Although sustainability is changing, like design before it:
It's pretty clear to me that in 10 years time, sustainability will have to be a VP role, if not a C-level role, and circular transformation (I just made that up, you can have it) will be a phrase for the 2020s just as "digital transformation" was the business mantra for the 2010s.
And that takes me back to positioning:
When I'm talking to these new agencies, and sometimes even new startups, who are operating in a space without a clear market, one of the provocations I like to use is this: imagine your ideal customer was the VP of something, or the Chief Something Officer. What would that something be? Design? Innovation? Chief Data Officer? (That's one which is on the ramp.) VP of A.I.? Sustainability? And can you be the cheerleader for it?
What would need to change in their company for that role to make sense? How would you have to package your work for someone in that job? Someone that high up, you have to take way more responsibility for your work -- you give them measurable outcomes, you don't just make deliverables; you have ownership in a different way. How would you help that new VP make clear the importance of their role?
Ok, your client today, whoever they are, your job is to talk to them like they are going to become that VP of something new, and the purpose of your marketing is to give them the air cover to make the case for it as a critical and growing area, and the purpose of your work is to give them the tools to get them promoted. They'll feel flattered, you'll provide more value, and your work will start establishing its own market.
It's a personal provocation I use on client projects too. In addition to the brief we've discussed, I ask myself: if there was a VP who had already created the culture and conditions such that this brief was already being answered, what role would that VP have? Can we see this project not just as delivering what it needs to deliver, but as a prototype of this VP's wider function? And if we see it like that, what's missing?
Perhaps this is one of a set of Oblique Strategies for consultancy...
20 years is pretty old for a blog, right? Although nowadays I "blog" more to my daily work notes or my "draft posts" folder than I post here.
I actually have a post I'm working on. But, as is typical, it's getting longer and longer each time I touch it, and (I know how this movie goes) it'll probably soon get to the point where I think it's too boring, too asinine, or too wrong to do anything with. So no promises on that front.
Instead here's a rambling post from 2007, from before I got self-conscious.
If you're looking for some good sci-fi, try Unholy Land by Lavie Tidhar (I kind of don't want to point at a review but if you insist). The book I am currently most excited about reading is the new short story retrospective from Molly Gloss, Unforeseen -- I have the paperback on pre-order. In the meantime, read her novel Wild Life (there's a decent blurb behind that link). Both of these books deal with subtle uncertainty and unstable realities. Much of Wild Life takes place in silence. Gloss writes about silence beautifully.
When I first read The Glass Bead Game (Hermann Hesse, 1943), I was awed by the beauty of this (fictional) game that is aesthetically beautiful, simply for its own sake, yet bridges art and science producing new insights.
All reminiscent of cybernetics which - as an interdisciplinary language - bridged fields from anthropology to information theory, and produced insights in cognitive neuroscience, computation, and more. (Some will disagree, which is kind of my point.)
Yet. I spend a lot of time in the tech world, and I frequently run into technologies that
This is technology from companies that are long-running and therefore successful (by one definition), or startups that are well funded (and popularity is another kind of success).
So what qualities causes my scammy spidey-sense to fire (or misfire)? It turns out it is mostly language. It is when
The problem is that many complex disciplines look scammy like this. Without already being an expert, how is it possible to tell the difference between necessary complexity and gatekeeping complexity? I don't know. I think about this a lot.
Back to tech:
I sit inside the technology ecosystem, and my own perspective is most likely bounded by a bubble - the surface of which is where it refers more inward than outward - and from the exterior probably it too looks like a priesthood that plays with concepts and charges for access. Perhaps? Yet clearly I feel it brings value. Besides its economic impact, it provides me with my tools for thinking and creativity. So how am I to reconcile that with these imagined exterior views?
And my goodness, design. There's a whole world of mysterious, self-referential language and play with ideas that many have trouble believing actually carries meaning to those participating, but in which I have great faith and find much value and enjoyment.
Because, with my 2020 perspective, the Glass Bead Game alarms me. The Game is played by a monastic caste of adepts and it takes a lifetime to master. It is supported by the fictional society it sits within.
It's exclusive. It's privileged. Although it makes a show of being meritocratic - in theory, recruits can come from anywhere - in practice it perpetuates the class system. Cynically: the meritocracy is a sham to build allegiances with the powerful in society at large, to enrol them in defending its practice of extracting energy from the ecosystem, simply to perpetuate its own complexity.
Thinking about the Glass Bead Game again, it seems more like a warning against societal preoccupations that fiercely gate-keep themselves. Which troubles me, because that also describes a lot of what I enjoy...
So perhaps the book is a doorway into meditating on (and perhaps learning how to distinguish) which unproductive, self-indulgent, expertise-demanding, self-perpetuating, expensive, worlds are actually very much the stuff of life - in that life would have no meaning or joy without them - fiction! art! hiking! opera! sharing great food with friends! -- and which pursuits are instead complex emergent parasites on society, with double mouths gulping from the noosphere and the econosphere, getting fat on their own shit.
About three weeks back, fellow traveller Tom Critchlow shared his annual notes on being an independent consultant: 5 years on the road: Thoughts on sustainable independence.
And: coincidence! I work via a consultancy vehicle called Mwie Ltd. I am its sole employee. Mwie was incorporated in October 2014 and issued its first invoice in November 2014, so that also puts me 5 years on the job. Happy work anniversary, I guess (which is absolutely not a thing although LinkedIn insists it is).
Inspired by Tom, I started writing a blog post retrospective. What I’ve been doing, what some highlights have been, etc.
What I’d like to do more of.
What am I any good at.
Oh my god where is it all going anyway.
Ok so (a) I shouldn’t have tried to write to write a retrospective on my own on a Friday night; and (b) wow it got way too personal, there’s no way I’m sharing it.
The thing is that for the past five years, I haven’t been talking about what I’m up to, and there hasn’t been a plan. My strategy has been
That last point all about what we’d call in other contexts product-market fit. That hyphen is an arrow of influence that points both ways.
Marketing requires a view on what the market finds valuable; what will resonate. In my case, how clients will find and understand business value. Not only have I lacked up-to-date knowledge of what value I, personally, can unlock, but prematurely working on marketing will shape the product before it’s ready.
And what is the “product” here? Well it’s me, my practice — it’s some overlap of what I find stimulating, what I’m good at, and what helps me get future work which is the same but better. But can I articulate that? Not a chance.
So if I look at the last five years, the strategy has been
If it sounds like I’m starting from the ground floor here, I guess it’s because I am. BERG (the design consultancy turned tech startup I co-founded) shut its doors in 2014, and I carried on working on various loose ends well into 2015. My “voice”, needs, patter, platform, and intellectual interests had been mixed with the studio, in one incarnation or another, for 10 years. It’s… confusing. Moreover, I had been surrounded by some of the most talented, unique individuals I have ever met — and one of the jobs of a CEO is to do only what can’t be done by others.
All of which means I came into my current five year stint as “Independent Consultant” (according to my LinkedIn) with very little real idea of what I was good at and what I wanted out of my work. And, if I’m honest, a bit afraid that the expectations of others — potential clients — would shape my practice into what they needed and thought I could offer, before I could figure that out for myself.
Let’s call it product discovery and market discovery. Business-speak as camouflage for feelings.
I wish I could find the source of this quote. I remember reading Kevin Kelly relating something he heard from his mentor Stewart Brand:
We have time for three 15 year careers. In each career, you’ve got five years to learn and work your way into it. Then five years to do it as well as you can. Finally you have five years where you can offer a new spin from your own individual perspective.
I think about this period I’m in as my second career. I’ve been in no hurry to figure out what it is.
But… five years in. Maybe it’s time to finish the discovery chapter and focus on execution for a bit.
Where were we? Oh yes, Friday night a little over two weeks back. On my own at the kitchen table with my laptop and a class of red, writing a career retrospective that was rapidly devolving into a career existential crisis.
Here’s what I did.
If I met me, and was advising me on what to do, this is what I would say:— and after answering that title I went to bed.
Before I go into the results of that personal career review, it’s worth saying why I separate myself from my consultancy, Mwie Ltd, even though the two are often the same.
You get what you do. Or rather, you get what others see that you do.
It’s funny. Jack and I gave an interview to the Daily Telegraph business section (I’m not even kidding) way back in 2007. I just went back and read it, and the advice in that article is exactly what I had to remind myself about that Friday night. Here's the article:
"We started turning down work," says Webb, describing the duo's slightly different approach to building a fledgling business. But Schulze and Webb had an unusual problem - when they spoke to potential customers they would get offers to design websites or graphic material. But that wasn't what they meant by "design". "Bits of plastic and microcontrollers," says Webb, "the future world of products." These were the things that excited them.
Friends advised two strategies. One: find a way to communicate to people what you do in language they can use with others (such as their bosses). Two: make things that encapsulate the kind of work you want to do and hope people discover them.
And at the end of the article:
Do: Start with the smallest thing that'll work. The learning you get from 'doing' is huge, it gives you pace, and big plans are always bigger than they look from the outside.
Don’t: Take work only for the money. You get what you do, so work that makes you unhappy is not progressive. And it's better to structure the business so you don't need the cash than take work that kills the opportunity of much better work.
Bloody hell. Thank you very much Jack-and-me-from-2007.
My personal career review includes some course-correction points.
I’m not going to share details on the above points if that’s ok.
Mainly, and this is what surprised me, when I looked back over five years of projects
None of this was necessarily going to be the case. So, good news.
You get what you do.
Long story short, I redesigned my website. Between other things that took two weeks and I put it live yesterday.
I thought about renaming. But switching away from Mwie Ltd felt like it would be inauthentic — it is just me, after all, operating as a limited company, and I have no intention of building it into another agency. Been there, done that.
Secret origin: “Mwie” stands for Matt Webb Import/Export because when I was a kid, visiting family in Nairobi, we would pass all kinds of import/export businesses and I still remember them as exotic and mysterious. I always wanted one of my own. And so.
Yet Mwie is a dumb name. So in the spirit of celebrating that which binds us, I figured I would lean in and put the expanded version on the homepage too.
Actually writing the case studies was pretty simple. This isn’t a launch of a new offer. There’s nothing aspirational here, and no new positioning. All I’m doing — very incrementally — is reinforcing existing word of mouth marketing by stating exactly what I already say in person.
So I just wrote down how I already talk about my projects.
Putting them in one place, and grouping them: that’s new.
Oh, and the design. I get my hands dirty with web design every year or two. It’s fun, although of course now I can’t see anything except what I think is wrong with it.
Here's a screen grab of the old mwie.com website from November 2019. Single page. Useful mainly for the boilerplate which shows the company registration number.
Here’s the new one:
As always, I’m up for hearing your thoughts. There’s a contact page on the other side of that hyperlink should you wish to get in touch.
Orangina commercials. Watch at least until the forest one. File under "sexy animals."
This message brought to you by today's trailer for the movie Cats.
The Popular Science Monthly, May 1877, "On the habits of ants" by Sir John Lubbock:
Landois is of [the] opinion that ants also make sounds in the same way [by rubbing their abdominal rings against another], though these sounds are inaudible to us. Our range is, however, after all, very limited, and the universe is probably full of music which we cannot perceive.
Emphasis mine. Source.
The sound of dial-up internet, decoded: what each segment of beeps, ping-pong, and static is doing and what it means.
My life has not been the same since I learnt that famously-silent giraffes are not in fact mute.
At midnight, in the pitch black, the neck becomes like a pipe organ, and they do this crazy deep ethereal HUMMING. Not kidding:
All I can think of is Palaeolithic humans on the African plains, it's the dead of night, and they're just bathing in this all-pervasive ASMR-inducing hum, the giraffes' 14 Hz infrasound skewering the soul, the dark savannah as a nightly cathedral with no walls and for its roof the eternal stars.
The latest beta of iOS 13 came out, and there’s a feature called
FaceTime Attention Correction which, on video calls, silently manipulates the image of your face so that you’re looking the other person directly in the eye. Which on first blush to me sounded cool (eye contact is good! Maybe?) but on further thought made me do a weird face.
(Currently the camera and the screen are slightly offset, so even when you’re looking at the picture of the other person, the camera sees your eyes as looking slightly away — and so they see you as looking slightly away.)
So I tweeted about the new feature with some hyperbole:
Whoa. iOS 13 will ARTIFICIALLY RE-POINT YOUR EYEBALLS in video calls so you're looking right at the other person instead of where you're actually looking, which is the screen. Hey Apple, so long as we're doing this, how about fixing my hair and maybe also the bags under my eyes — which is how you have to talk now to get RTs. (As at this moment: 140 retweets and 383 likes.)
Some responses and my thoughts follow:
This is kind of amazing and I think it is really well done, But as an autistic person I also find it discomfiting. One of the reasons I like video calls is that there is no expectation to meet the other persons eye.
This was one of several responses from an autistic perspective, and the concern really resonates with me. Phones have become pretty much mandatory at this point to participate in society, and for them to subtly prefer a particular model of self — that’s all kinds of problematic.
I very much do not want to live in a world which discriminates against or erases different ways of being.
From an autistic perspective, this is just a whole deeply visceral world of “nope”.
Please do not edit my online communication style to make it more neurotypical, I already have to do that enough in meatspace, thanks
Consent is another issue: sure “Attention Correction” is a setting you can turn on and off, but if everyone does it, will it really be an option?
And what about the consent of the other? Is there an icon to show that they’re speaking with an “attention corrected” person, or one that has their hair computationally styled, or their voice enhanced to sound more persuasive? Etc.
You know Zoom has a pretty filter? Your skin will look dewy fresh.
(Zoom being the business world’s new hotness in terms of video conferencing. Which is fair because it’s great.)
It’s important to remember that Attention Correction exists on a spectrum of image correction. But the Zoom pretty filter came as a surprise to me — I’m pretty sure I knew about it once, but it hadn’t seemed important enough to remember.
So perhaps what’s happened is I had mentally categorised video calls as a whole as “unmediated” and Attention Correction is reminding me that it they are very much mediated — more fool me for forgetting I guess — and we will have to develop personal skills and social norms to tell authentic and inauthentic apart?
We’ve gone through this process in, for example, email: “real” emails are text only, from our friends, don’t have a sig. “Unreal” emails use placeholder names, sales-y language, graphics, have an unsubscribe footer, etc. Our expectations for “real” include polite correspondence, turn-taking, no hidden agenda, for example. When these categories are violated, such as the recent fuss regarding the highly funded Superhuman email client which includes hidden tracking images, i.e. applying standard “unreal” email norms to “real” email conversations, outrage results.
We have similar tells — some enforced by regulation, and some that we develop through critical thinking — with TV. There’s a difference between programming and adverts, for example. In programming, there’s a difference between fiction and reality TV. And even with reality TV, we have language to discuss and understand exactly how real it is. What’s that phrase? Structured reality.
So from this perspective, maybe what Attention Correction represents is that this kind of mediation of realtime video is inevitable, and what we need is enough cues and tells and shared language to build up our categorisation instincts.
Prediction: within 3 years you won't even need the camera to make video calls.
Enough training to match my intonation to the expressions of my Memoji, and yes — all the pieces are there.
In case you’re interested, gaze correction has been a long-running project for Microsoft Research, e.g. link
I hadn’t seen the particular research Tom points out, but because of my digging around Glancing back in the day, I have folders full of papers about computers and gaze…
One paper that particularly comes to mind is Ishii and Minoru (1992), ClearBoard: A Seamless Medium for Shared Drawing and Conversation with Eye Contact, CHI ’92. In this work, two collaborators were linked over a shared screen and a video conference. The video call was presented, translucent, overlaid on the shared desktop screen and applications, and reflected.
The result being that you can see where the other person is looking at on the desktop, and they can see where you’re looking too: that is, when they look at a picture on their version of the shared desktop, their gaze on your desktop points at the very same picture. And in the study, this greatly improved ability to work together.
From the paper:
The importance of eye-contact is often discussed in the design of face-to-face communication tools, However, we believe the concept of gaze awareness is more generalized and is a more important notion. Gaze awareness lets a user know what the partner is looking at, the user’s face or anything else on the shared workspace. If the partner is looking at you, you can know it. If the partner is gazing at an object in the shared workspace, you can know what the object is. Eye contact can be seen as just a special case of gaze awareness.
We think the notion of gaze awareness will be an important goal of the next generation of shared drawing tools. It can not be easily obtained in conventional meeting environments, and only CSCW [Computer Supported Cooperative Work] technology can provide it.
There is a ton of research into the gaze from the time, and — like the term CSCW itself — we’ve lost momentum bringing this into the user interface. We’re still in the era of the Personal Computer. The “collaborative” aspect of computing remains (to me) only a thin veneer on the PC. And the challenges we face in the future will only be met by working together…
It’s not just work, it’s all kinds of communication. In real world groups, gaze is used to request priority or give way. Visibility of the gaze of others directs group attention (another recently under-studied area).
So I’m excited because it feels like we’re opening up collaboration, gaze awareness, and group attention once more.
However: I’m uncomfortable with the re-writing of the gaze as performed by the Attention Correction feature. I would feel considerably happier about it if there was a camera behind the screen so the result was meaningful gaze awareness without the post-truth undermining of “real” video.
Despite my discomfort… the possibilities of eye contact in video! I would love to see a simplified reimplementation of ClearBoard from that paper, only using FaceTime. For example, could two people have a shared space as if we were both drawing on the glass window of the screen? This would work incredibly well on the screen of the iPad.
Or… Could we make a translucent FaceTime call, to allow for gaze awareness, and overlay on it a Google Doc, so we could discuss paragraphs with the non-verbal cues of the gaze, and avoid stepping on each others toes with those multiple edit cursors by watching each other’s eyes? Would collaboration be more effective? I bet it would. Apple, Google, give me a call…
Unpopular opinion: Every little hack like this is getting us a bit closer to the (long-predicted, now largely derided) Death of Distance - which will have enormously positive effects on the economy and society when it finally happens.
Positive statements like this were relatively rare in the responses to my tweet. And while I share the sentiment… the implementation and context give me equal concern.
This feels like a nope. Why should my phone decide where I should be looking? Auto-correct for facial expressions is a whole new weird world of darkness. (And maybe where the animoji training data has been going?)
Oh ... I mean, is this actually deep fake as a product?
Quite a few people (men FWIW) have replied to this to say it doesn’t seem creepy to them, but the first rule of “is this creepy?” is not “Do this seem creepy to ME?” but “Does this seem creepy to someone with less power or status or more vulnerability than me?”
Rachel Coldicutt’s response sums it up for me.
Auto-correct for facial expressions is Attention Correction is a nutshell. Not only because auto-correct has both positive and negative consequences, but also because — in this case — an idea of “correctness” in face-to-face communication is invented, and the idea that there is or should be “correctness” here is something I would push back on very strongly.
Coldicutt’s final point, which is to bring in power, is the most important point in all of this: looking through the lens of power is where discussion of this feature should begin and end.
And so my question is this:
since the category of “unreal” (deep fake, fictional, mediated) video is here to stay, and only going to grow, and knowing that gaze awareness is important and, yes, something that should be available to design with; listening to the many concerns and always sensitive to the dynamics of power and vulnerability; how could Apple present this Attention Correction feature differently today (it may be nothing more than displaying an icon on the receiving end) in order to help us develop the best cues and social norms to not only minimise damage, but to best position us for an inclusive, collaborative, technology-positive future?
Tonight I’ve watched
The moon and then
The night is now
goes; I am
in bed alone
I don’t know much - really anything - by or about Sappho. Except this, a fragment of the Midnight Poem, and in particular this translation by Mary Barnard, which was the subject of a blog post by Clive Thompson from 2016 (that link to Internet Archive):
In a mere eight lines, she paints the melancholy of middle age onto the canvas of the night sky.
It’s beautiful. The blog post is only available in the Archive now, and the translation isn’t available online except as a photograph which is a broken image in that blog post, so I’ve transcribed it here so I’ve got it to come back to.
In that post, Thompson describes a recently published astronomy paper:
The Pleiades (which is that tight box of stars which I recognise but I’m rubbish at names; by Aldebaran) - says the paper - were visible, in 570 BC around the time the poem was written, at the appointed time which is before midnight, between 25 January and 5 April.
I can imagine how I feel at that time of night, at that time of year. No artificial light of course, or not much anyway. No stultifying heat. I haven’t slept yet, so it’s not in that witching hour before second sleep. But I’m awake and gazing at the sky, long enough that I can see the stars move.
It brings me closer to Sappho. The eyes of science as an empathy machine.
There's a bunch of fuss about Beyond Burger rn regarding
I'm excited about these new vegan burgers because
BUT: thought experiment:
Why my remaining discomfort? Because animals are, well, animals. They're people too. I've known a bunch of animals, and we're all people in different ways. That fact is hard to reconcile with eating them.
For me, I do continue to eat meat (although less than I used). But I think a lot of my discomfort around it - environmentally, the agro-industry, health - is displacement from the hard-to-digest fact that, when I've met a cow, they're super nice to hang out with, and I could see us being friends. And that feeling isn't going to go away.
I have a hunch that our inability to deal with the immensity of this gift - this animal-person who has been killed so I can have my dinner - means that, either deep down or out loud, we end up denying there's a gift or any kind of trade-off at all, hence the tribalism, and lack of sensible discussion, around the adjacent topics of health, carbon, and so on.
The slip-sliding and dissembling around health benefits/carbon/etc makes me think that a bigger issue is being psychologically avoided. And for me, maybe that issue is "meat tastes great" vs "holy shit animals are people too" which is so hard to reconcile that it gets repressed, and repressed feelings come out in weird ways.
I like that being vegan is a movement, in a way that being vegetarian was a movement in the 1980s, or Atkins in the early 2000s. These are lifestyle choices that bring alignment with the body and the planet by promoting practice changes and introducing a new kind of mindfulness.
Could there be a similar movement that embraces some of the logic behind the Beyond Burger, but also includes meat?
Here's my suggestion:
I am a big believer in vocalised gratitude as a means towards mindfulness, but mainly towards being able to accept the weight, meaning, obligation, and reciprocity of a gift.
Once gratitude is internalised and the gift of sacrifice is accepted, I've a feeling that the rest will fall into place. In short: a more balanced relationship between the food we need to live as individuals, and the planet we need to live together.
Ok so this is just saying grace. But oriented towards the animal.
I wonder if there could be a single phrase which expresses gratitude for the gift?
And something, unlike the traditional and passive
For what we are about to receive..., that acknowledges my actions and choices that have brought about this meal of meat and all that it required? Said out loud, it would promote discussion and maybe even spread...
I missed the anniversary: it's now week 61 of Job Garden. I write weeknotes on the Job Garden blog and they're invisible here, so to rectify that: here are links to all the posts to date. Expect a combination of feature releases and rambling tangents about the old days of the internet.
This is more for me than you, so I'll point out any particular post which I think is worth a read.
Until this point, Job Garden was personal: just a place for me to share jobs at companies I'm connected with in some way (i.e. that I've invested in either personally or more likely via R/GA Ventures, or ones I advise, or they're run by mates).
Now, as an experiment, since a few others had asked if they could also use Job Garden, I started opening it up a bit.
But still very much a hobby. That's one of the things I like about Job Garden: it's well within my comfort zone to build and design, so as a hobby it's perfect because it's about craft and doing things "properly"... and whether that means "100% working" or "opinionated" I'll leave open.
Quantity has a quality all its ownwhich is a quote you really shouldn't use because it's from Joseph Stalin
Here's a post in its own section because it still gets a bunch of traffic. So maybe you would like to read it too?
These next few months feel like their own chapter... adding a few more friends to garden their own job boards, and the general data and design improvements required in consequence:
cross the river by feeling the stones
A small improvement, but big improvements are made out of small improvements a thousand times.I'm pretty obsessed with this compound interest thing it turns out
The material will tell you what it wants to do.
Ah, and at this point Stella was born. So everything stopped until week 50.
That 17 week period - four and a bit months - was interesting (baby aside, which of course is interesting and joyful and awesome and all kinds of superlatives, but I'm talking about JG here) because it gave me room to think about Job Garden. And remember it's still a hobby at this point!
Coming into 2019, a handful of my users got in touch and asked for additional features. So I looked at what I'd built and I thought: it's rare that you make something that does a valuable thing and also people want to use it enough that they're requesting features. Then I thought: I should take this more seriously.
So the chapter that follows is the chapter of: work on Job Garden enough that I can tell whether or not to take it seriously.
I'm not on JG full time. I'm working on other things too. I get up at 6 and work on Job Garden then, and I work at night after the family have gone to bed. During the day I often work on JG but I also have other gigs, and I'm a parent too, and the parent bit gets priority.
Perhaps there's something commercial in Job Garden that doesn't compromise the value it provides to the startups I care about (that's one of our overriding principles. We've got 12.). Perhaps not, and if there's not then the worst thing that will happen is that we've built something good.
The goal for this year is to figure out whether there is something commercial and uncompromising there. If that's the case, I'll take JG seriously at that point.
So the rest of the weeknotes (till now, I guess) are in that chapter.
They are also less frequent, and seem to be more about feature releases although of course with regular tangents. Here:
That brings us up to date.
Reading all these weeknotes back, just now, it also feels like the end of a chapter, or at least a subchapter: having shipped autotags and the new design, Job Garden basically represents what was in my head pre week 1. Sure there needs to be more data on which to pivot, and more ways to receive alerts about new jobs, etc, and there is a ton to do around that, but that's all just a matter of colouring between the lines.
I feel like now everything's on the table; the basic Lego bricks have been made; the frame has been created. So it's time to figure out what to do with those pieces, and the motivations for what to prioritise from the roadmap (which is big believe me) will be different from what they've been so far.
Which means year 2 will feel different. Exactly how I'll have to see in next year's retrospective.
Perhaps everyone has an ur-place--a place by which all others are understood--maybe they do and maybe they don't, but mine is where I grew up and it's the New Forest
(which isn't new, as it was founded 900 years ago, and it is barely a forest--mostly heath and scrub and copses)
I'm here now and I've been out for a run. I can't say I miss it when I'm not here, but when I come back to this landscape which is evidently imprinted deep in my psyche somewhere, my heart swells to bursting
so running is a matter of stumbling from one overwhelming heavenly moment heart bursts the pool of bluebells nestled under the tree! to another overwhelming heart bursts the sun beams dappling through the branches into the deep woods! to another...
till eventually on a bridleway on the open forest (which, so you can picture it, is low rolling heath with grass and ferns with gorse bushes and ponies and donkeys, going misty blue into the distance), running, I couldn't take it anymore, and stopped and looked at the grass
under my feet. The grass between the ferns and heather and gorse is cropped like a lawn, kept that way by the horses who live on the forest, and the grass of course is green but then you look at it, and I can't help but inventory the colours
pale blue greens
deep moss green shadows, all of these blades of grass, all different
auburn tips of unfurling new shoots
deep brown, light beige
between: bone white
because the forest is on a chalk bed, so you get these startling whites, and the water when you see it runs crystal clear, chalk streams they're called, so the soil not just brown but grey and hazel
lichen--a pale fire
then: tiny: you don't notice them at first: lilac petals
These are the two shocking colours of the forest: tiny bright, secret purples foreshadowing the purple carpet of the heather that will come out in the autumn; and yellow, the bright yellow flowers of the gorse, a million points of light like the stars in the milky way
all over this infinity of greens and browns and whites, a full half of my gaze, the bottom half is green, and the top half blue--the sky--and to notice that the world, the regular old world, is painted in primary colours, I lose my breath again
So the rest of the run I alternate between stopping and looking at the plants, the horses, the horizon, getting lost in it--and sprinting as hard as I can, feeling the land and the sky in my legs and my lungs
If I showed you a picture it wouldn't make any sense. The real picture is the how it shaped me and what it feels like to come back, my own psychic contours exactly complemented and filled by the landscape I am in once again.
Calvino in Invisible Cities, after 55 magical descriptions of faraway places:
Every time I describe a city I am saying something about Venice. His ur-place. The New Forest is mine.